


Allergies

by chickens_for_AO3



Series: small town AU [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Baristas, Florists, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Rated teen for language, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24976255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickens_for_AO3/pseuds/chickens_for_AO3
Summary: Life in a small town wasn't simple, even without the stress of rent and events and friendships. But sooner or later, those things begin to pile up...George's flower shop almost shuts down. It had been his home for the past three years, and he has to battle with fear of getting kicked out while trying not to lose a friend.Ft. Florist!George, Barista!Dream and TattooArtist!Sapnap.
Relationships: none yet
Series: small town AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809919
Comments: 2
Kudos: 109





	Allergies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unrequited_heartbreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrequited_heartbreak/gifts).



> Big thanks to everyone over at the Church of Gorge discord, who helped create this AU, and for providing such amazing support!
> 
> And love to Sav, who helped me edit this fic and helping with my many mistakes along the way.
> 
> TW// Panic Attacks, Anxiety

George walked in one night, after all the Moonlight Cafe’s customers had gone. He sat down at one of the tables, resting his head on its cool wooden surface.

“Everything okay, George?” Dream asked, as he packed away the unsold pastries into cardboard containers. 

George groaned, adjusting his head so he could look at the tired barista. “Just having some problems with customers, the usual."

Dream nodded, picking up an old croissant. “Got a lot of Karens today, I presume?” 

“You know how the Sunbucks opened up across town and they started getting all the commuters? A new flower shop just opened, and they’re getting all the couples going on stupid dates." 

Being a florist wasn’t something George had ever thought he would do, but after Dream started working at Moonlight and Sapnap joined the tattoo parlor on a whim, he decided to try it out.

It was, decidedly, not going very well. 

Even after the rocky start and definite learning curve, George had done pretty well in the flower industry. He had one a few awards in his earlier years. Learning to mix his limited color palette in new ways had made him popular in the surrounding area.

Dream sat down next to him, knocking on the table next to his head. “Things are gonna look up soon, dude. You remember when Bad’s bookstore suffered when the Farm’s n’ Honorable opened up?"

He hummed, frowning in thought.

“Bad’s owns a bookstore, though. People like books, not flowers.” 

He poked at George’s hair, “Shut up, loser. Give it time, okay? Let’s go pick up Sapnap, these pastries are getting staler by the second." Dream sneezed suddenly, George breaking out into a grin at his ailment.

"How'd you even get pollen in your hair? And you barge in here like there's no consequences?" 

That was weeks ago. 

Now George was behind on payments, and customers were only half the problem.

He slumped across the dark counter, papers littering the wood in front of him. His shop, Flowersnotfound, was dark. The floor of the shop was covered in dying petals- juggling rent and the cost of flowers was becoming more and more difficult each day. 

It was early, the sun's watery light filtering in through the giant glass windows that made up the front of the shop.

There was no use in cleaning up the shop today, with the lack of customers in general. But Thursdays were always quiet, with even the regulars gone.

George sighed. He didn’t know what to do. Less and less customers showed up every week, and he had to stop shipments on most of his plants. Bouquets were the only thing being sold, and cut flowers were expensive.

Sapnap tapped at the glass door, leaving tiny oil smudges on the glass, obvious in the sunlight. His hands were already colored with ink, presumably from practicing designs. George waved him inside, and the ring of the small bell in the doorway echoed through the empty store. 

“How ya doin’?” he asked, bending over to plant his elbows on the counter. “The shop’s not even clean yet and you open in a couple of hours.”

George ignored him, moving his face from where Sapnap purposefully stuck his elbows. “There’s no point,” He shuffled his papers. “I’m getting less and less customers every week, and nobody even really comes in on Thursdays.”

“Dude, just give it some time! I know you’re stressed, but we can always go graffiti the other shop or break a window if you really need it.” The tattoo artist straightened, his multiple piercings flashing in the light.

“I just don't know what to do anymore. It’s not exactly like I could do a massive sale or something to attract people.” He tossed his papers under the counter, picking up a watering can and aggressively dumping water on the (almost dead) potted ferns.

Sapnap tugged on one of his earrings in thought. “What if you did, though?”

“What?”

\----

“This was a stupid idea. I don’t know how you talked me into this.” George sighed, rolling a pen between his fingers. 

“You need the exposure, and plus, you’ll be stealing all the attention away from that other flower place.” Sapnap said, scrubbing at the remnants of ink on the coffee table. “What’s it called again? Soothouse?”

“I don’t know. How’s this even going to work? I make a bunch of bouquets and sell them?” George flung his arms out, managing to knock over the _very dirty_ cup of paint water. "I do that already."

“Dude! I just cleaned up your mess on the table and now you stain my floor?” 

George and Sapnap were practicing the designs for the themed open house.

They figured out a lot of the details for the event in a couple of days, even wrangling a sponsorship out of a restaurant downtown. It had been a difficult week, but the event was set for next friday.

Dozens of bouquets, divided up into their representing seasons. 

The loft above Sapnap’s tattoo parlor, Inktree, was considered their home base. George and Dream’s apartments were across or out of town, making planning the event quickly a pain.

“I’m back!” Dream yelled, suddenly bursting into the apartment, arms laden with snacks. “You guys still working?”

“Yeah, George is shit at decisions, so I’m forcing him to finalize everything. Who knew flowers were this nerve-wracking?” Sapnap said, throwing away the ink-stained paper towel. “He also keeps knocking over my paint water.”

“It’s not my fault you leave it everywhere! You should be more considerate of your guests,” George snapped, reaching over to grab the food from Dream’s hands. “Hell yeah! Apple juice!”

“You’re like a little kid.” Dream teased, setting down the other bags. “Don’t you still have to go finish setting up your shop for Friday?” 

“Yeah, but i’ll do it tomorrow. I have like, four days to move a couple blocks of wood.”

“I’ve seen the back of your shop and you’re lying.” 

“Maybe.”

\------

George sat up, remembered, and panicked. 

“What?” Sapnap asked, setting down the spatula he was using to cook breakfast. “Did you forget something?”

“Yes!” George shrieked. “The fucking orders!”

“How’d you forget? The event’s in a couple days!”

“Shut up! What time is it?” George stood up and grabbed his goggles, shoving them onto his face.

“Like, 7am. You have time, but you’ll probably need to borrow Dream on his break to get through it all,” Sapnap said, throwing George’s hoodie at him. “It’s pretty cold this morning.”

“Thanks,” George responded, grabbing the bowl of eggs Sapnap handed to him, quickly eating and tossing it in the sink. “Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone, stupid.” 

“Shut up.”

George jogged down the stairs, waving to the few employees getting the parlour open for the day. The boutique was a couple stores down, right across from Dream’s cafe. 

The shop was devoid of flowers and plants, it’s wooden countertops littered with dead leaves. Flipping on the lights, George threw on his apron, it's crookedly embroidered flowers faded with use. The counters were quickly cleaned, and the floors were swept. The shop was narrow but long, and being on the corner, it got more window space than the other buildings. 

Soon, the space was clean, free of dust for the first time in a month. The storage room was bursting with materials, with the displays being dropped off last night. Windows were washed, tools organized, and the different order forms sat scattered on the main counter.

“George!” Dream shouted from outside the shop, muffled as he pressed his face up against the window. 

“Get your face off the glass, idiot!” George said, refusing to turn around. “I just cleaned it!”

“Is it safe to come inside?” He stuck his head inside, looking for any hidden enemies.

“Yeah,” George set down the pen he was holding. “I cleaned out all the dead flowers a while ago.”

Dream sneezed as he walked in. “You little liar!”

“I did, I swear! There must be some pollen floating around in the air.”

“Whatever. What did you need me for?” He walked over to George, who was rapidly filling out forms. 

“Just help me move the displays inside. They’re made of wood, unless you’re allergic?” He squinted at Dream, who scoffed. 

“Your entire shop is basically made of wood. If I lit a match the entire thing would go up in flames.”

“Threatening arson again?”

“You bet.”

Sapnap pushed the door open, waving to someone on the street. Dream turned around, surprised. 

“You invited Sapnap? Doesn’t he have to lock up Inktree?” He asked, blocking the punch Sapnap threw at his shoulder. 

“I own the place, stupid. I just closed up early, we don’t have any clients booked,” He flicked George’s forehead. “And besides, how could I pass up helping out my little buddy George?”

“Shut up, Sap. You’re the only one who can enter the back room without suffocating to death,” George said, shoving Sapnap’s hand away. 

“That was one time!” Dream exclaimed. 

“Alright, alright, let’s get started.” Sapnap said, clapping his hands together. 

George set down his pen, beckoning them towards the storage room door. He held his hand up to prevent Dream from entering. “There are a lot of old plants in here, me and Sapnap'll pass you the displays.”

The door swung open a couple minutes later, George standing behind several blocks of wood varying in height and size. 

“Is this everything?” Dream asked sarcastically, shuffling the blocks of wood further inside the store. 

“Yeah,” George panted. “They’re pretty heavy, can you handle them all?” 

“Yep. I just arrange them on the tape, right?” 

“The large ones go on the squares, and the smaller ones go on the dots.” The boutique’s usual floor displays had been removed, leaving the main space of the store open. “I’ll check up on you in about an hour, okay?”

“Sure.”

George yanked his hoodie over his head, throwing it on the counter. “Turn up the AC too.” He pulled his goggles off, setting them down next to the sweater. “Knock on the door if you finish early.”

With that, he disappeared into the back room. Dream sneezed.

It took him a little while to fully understand how the pedestals were designed, but Dream got it done fairly quickly. 

He knocked on the door, straining his ears to hear anything. 

“Dream? You done?” Sapnap yelled. Something metal clanged loudly from behind the door, and George swore. Dream giggled from his place behind the wall.

George swung the door open sharply, and Dream backed up in surprise. He wheeled in smaller displays, little cubbies for various houseplants.

“These are for other plants, make sure they’re flat against the walls.” George told him, moving them further into the store.

Sapnap walked up to Dream with a bucket, dumping it unceremoniously into his arms. 

“Sort these.”

\----

Soon the shop was getting dark; the last rays of sun that filtered through the windows painted everything in golden light. Dream sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting the rest of the gardening supplies into their respective boxes.

He sighed, throwing the last couple tools into their cases. Standing up, he placed them neatly on the counter.

There were no conversations behind the storage door, no _snip_ of tools or clinks of pots tapping against each other. 

The boutique was almost completely dark now, and Dream hesitated to knock, afraid of breaking the silence. 

He sighed, jumping onto the cashier’s counter to wait. He knocked something off as he hoisted himself up, and the crack of plastic on tile sent a wave of alarm through him. 

George's goggles lay broken on the floor.

He ran behind the counter, picking up the knocked-out lens and holding up the remaining cracked lens to the light filtering in from the streetlamp. 

“Dream? You okay?” George asked from behind the door. 

He panicked, shoving the broken pieces somewhere beneath the counter. “Yep! Everything’s fine!” 

Sapnap walked in, brushing a couple browning leaves out of his hair. “Hey! It looks pretty nice in here.”

“I’m not blind, Sapnap.” Dream joked, jumping over the counter. “Where’s George?” 

“Here!” the florist answered, shutting the heavy back door. “You guys ready to go?” 

He grabbed his sweater off the counter, following Dream and Sapnap outside the store. They walked to Inktree together, and George found himself more sleepy as the minutes went on. 

Several hours later, with one florist and one tattoo artist passed out on their respective couches, Dream stretched, sitting up off the floor. Eyes aching after being fixed on his phone for so long, he staggered towards the back window. 

Swinging himself onto the rickety staircase, he climbed towards the roof, wind pushing him higher up the steps. The sky was clear, breeze crisp and sharp in his lungs. The streetlamp’s light gathered along the edges of the building, but the top of the apartment stayed dark.

He laid back on the concrete, staring into the sky littered with clouds.

He didn’t know how long he’d been up there when he heard a quiet “Dream?” from behind him. 

He almost panicked, instead pressing his eyes shut. “Yeah?”

“It’s just Sapnap. Why are you awake?” the other boy asked, sitting cross legged next to him. 

“No reason,” He spoke, too quick and nervous for his words to be true. 

“You can tell me, dude.” Sapnap leaned in, his face right over Dream's. 

“I just…” he trailed off. “Fucked up? Really badly.”

“I’m sure you didn't fuck up _that_ badly.” The ends of his headband brushed Dream’s face. 

“I broke George’s goggles.”

Sapnap paled, leaning back. “Wow. Okay. Maybe you did fuck up that badly.”

“Not helping,” Dream grit his teeth, pressing his palms into his eyes. He stood up, ignoring the pins and needles in his legs, and began to pace. 

“How?! We left you alone for, like, an hour at a time.”

“I jumped up on the counter to rest and knocked them off."

“Did you tell George? He only has four days to get them fixed!”

“How do you think I’m gonna do that? Hey George, I broke the glasses you needed to save your shop!” His eyes widened in realization, and he slowed down.

“You okay, man?” Sapnap glanced up at his friend. 

Dread laced it’s way down his spine, pooling in his stomach. “God, I’m the worst. How could I do this? He’s been working on this shop for like, 6 years and I just ruined his chance?”

Sapnap stood up, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He tightened it when Dream started to move away again. “You have to tell him. Preferably as soon as possible.” 

Dream pressed his hands to his face. “I can’t.”

“He’ll forgive you with time. At least by telling him now, he can try and fix them for Friday.” 

“He’s going to hate me, Sap,” His voice cracked.

Sapnap pulled Dream into a hug, one arm around his waist and another on top of his shoulder. “You’ll be okay, Dream."

Downstairs, George startled awake. 

“What the fuck?” he whispered, looking around at the room. He was _sure_ that everyone had fallen asleep, what happened?

A breeze blew through the room, clawing several papers towards the window. 

Panic shot through George like ice water poured on his once-sleepy brain. Why was the window open? Where was Dream? Why was his hand in a bowl of cold water?

Wrapping his blanket around himself, (when did that get there?) he stuck his head out the window. Sapnap’s voice swept down, the fire escape creaking lightly in the wind. 

He peeked over the edge of the roof, squinting at Dream and Sap's figures.

“Are you _crying_?” 

They sprang apart Dream hastily scrubbed at his eyes; Sapnap tried to block his view. 

“What are you doing up?” Sapnap asked, moving again to obstruct George when he tried to get a better view of Dream. 

“What are _you_ doing up? It’s like 3am!” He retorted, pulling himself up and pushing Sapnap aside. “Dream? Are you okay?”

“George.” He pulled him away from Dream, motioning towards the stairway. “Stop.”

“I just-”

“Leave it. I’ll explain later, okay?”

George huffed, throwing a glance at Dream, hands over his eyes. “Alright.”

He climbed back down and drifted into an uneasy sleep, but not before hearing Sapnap collapse onto the couch, and Dream settle back down on the floor. 

\----

The boutique was flooded with light when George entered late the next day. He hummed to himself, moving lightly through the store, adjusting the podiums and checking on the various new plants hanging from the ceiling. 

The storage area was still intact, sadly, and the florist resigned himself to the monotonous work that was preparing the newer flowers.

He patted his pockets, looking for his goggles. Dream and Sapnap still teased him about them relentlessly, mocking how the massive white frames took up so much of his face. They were a bad decision when he was younger, and with enchroma glasses weren’t cheap, so he was stuck with them for a while. 

George frowned, reentering the main shop to look for them. 

Nothing.

Maybe he left them at Sap’s? George knew the other man misplaced things quite often, judging from the amount of calls he got from payphones every month.

He did his best to separate the flowers, reds and greens being the most difficult to sort. He texted a picture to their group chat, hours later, asking if they were correct.

George heard a knock on the window a several minutes later, and exited the storage room to see Dream laughing. 

“What?” He asked, opening the shop door to glare at the barista. 

Dream gestured at his phone, the picture of the flowers open. 

“How did I do?” George asked, his friend’s laughter finally calming down enough to speak.

“Uh-” He looked at his phone again, and immediately doubled over, sounding everything like the boiling kettle he was. 

“Was it really that bad?” 

“Yes.” Sapnap answered, jogging down the street towards them, the door to his parlour jingling behind him as it closed. “I thought you were red-green colorblind, not completely blind.”

“Hey! I was able to help you with that outfit the other day.” 

“You suggested lime green with orange, and you can’t see either of those colors.”

George scoffs, pushing his way back into the boutique. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Almost glancing at his phone again, Dream shakes his head. “I’ve gotta close up Moonlight again, can you two survive without me?”

“Get outta here, Dream,” Sapnap says, following George into the store. 

\----

It was almost 11pm when they finished, and the shelves were bursting with colorful flowers. Not that George could really tell, but still. 

“Hey Sap, have you seen my goggles? I thought I left them here, but I guess they’re at your place.” The florist asked, stretching towards the grey ceilings

“How’d you manage to lose those massive things?” Sapnap responded lightly, dusting off his white and black apron. 

“I don’t know, I think I stuck them in my jacket pocket.”

“Let’s go try to find them, then.”

The lights in Sapnap’s flat were off. 

“Why’s it so da-” George began to ask, before Sapnap’s hand smacked against his mouth.

“I think Dream’s sleeping,” He whispered, pointing towards the couch.

“Oh,” George pulled his apron up and off, throwing it into a pile on the floor. “I’m just going to go to bed.”

“If you think you can lie on my couch in jeans and shoes, you’re dead wrong.” Even in the dark, Sapnap’s stare was evident.

George collapsed onto the puffy grey couch several minutes later, wearing the appropriate clothes, and quickly fell asleep.

Sapnap sighed to himself, tossing another blanket onto Dream. He yelped as his friend's hand locked around his wrist, wrenching him from the apartment as he ran.

“What are you doing?” The artist asked, shaking his throbbing wrist. They had run all the way out into the street, standing under one of the yellow streetlights. 

Dream ignored him, reaching for a bag sitting beside the door. He yanked out a stack of brightly-colored papers, passing half to Sapnap. 

He looked down at them confusedly. “These are…posters for the show?"

The barista nodded, handing him a stapler. “Help me out, okay?”

Sapnap looked at the papers, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “Okay. Where do you want to start?” 

Dream looks up and down the street. “Everywhere?”

\----

Several hundred staples and three hours later, Dream and Sapnap flopped against the pavement. 

“This was a bad idea,” Dream laughed. “I don’t think some of those posters are gonna come off.”

“You got so mad they weren’t staying up, I'm surprised you didn’t break the stapler,” the other boy responded.

“Hopefully people will notice them,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I must’ve printed out at least 300.”

“They’re everywhere, of course people will see them!” 

They walked back towards the apartment as rain began to sprinkle down. “Don’t forget about the ones we put in front of that other florists’ place.”

“Hey! I know they get a lot of foot traffic, why not?”

“You put up like, twenty. With plenty of violence.” 

Dream swerved, knocking his shoulder into Sapnap’s. “Violence? Really?”

“Look man, staplers shouldn’t be able to go through stucco that easily.”

The fine grey mist turned to droplets, pattering against the pavement. 

Sapnap held out his hand, catching a few in his palm. “Looks like we better get going.”

“Race you back!” Dream shouted, breaking out into a sprint.

“Hey! you shouldn’t be running with staplers!” Sapnap answered, following on his heels. 

They arrived ten minutes later, the taller boy slamming his hand into the door of the tattoo parlour. It was pouring in earnest now, street lamps reflecting in the freezing rain and turning each droplet into a tiny sparkling crystal. The door’s bell jingled as it opened, and the warm air of the studio gushed out into the street. 

Sapnap followed soon after, shutting the door and locking it. “I can’t believe you beat me,” he panted.

“I carry around giant bags of flour every day and you’re surprised?” Dream retorted, walking up the stairs to the apartment. “Don’t wake George,”

“It’s almost 5am, he’s going to be waking up soon anyways.”

“The show’s tomorrow and he needs his beauty sleep!”

“Did you tell him about his goggles yet?” Sapnap said, pushing past Dream into the living room. 

His smile immediately fell, hands twisting together as he followed. “No.” 

“The thing’s like three days from now and you _haven’t_ told him yet?” he scream-whispered, glaring at Dream.

“I didn’t-” The barista swallowed, avoiding Sapnap’s eyes. “I didn’t want to stress him out.”

Sapnap dragged his hands down his face. “You’re an idiot,” He turned away, kicking off his shoes. 

“Sap-” Dream started, cut off by a finger on his lips. 

“I don’t want to hear it. You may have tried to help him out, but how’s George going to react when he finds out? He's running out of time to get them repaired.”

“I know,” He whispered, blonde hair falling into his face. “I know.”

“I’m going to sleep.” Sapnap walked towards his bedroom, hesitating. “At least try, okay?”

He sounded so tired.

“Okay,” Dream answered, his voice thick with guilt. 

He didn't get any sleep.

\----

George stretched towards the cloudy sky, early morning light did its part to wake him up. It had been a couple days, Friday arriving in the form of cloudy skies and dull weather.

Nervousness wormed its way into his mind as his brain began to work, and his hands trembled as he unlocked the shop. Neglecting to turn on the lights, he raised the blinds on the tall windows, then went about checking everything for the evening. 

The ferns were yellow. Why were they yellow?

With a start, he remembered his glasses. 

“Shit,” George whispered. He had scoured Sap’s apartment already. They had to be in the shop, didn’t they? If this was a prank, he’d never forgive either of his friends. 

How'd he manage to forget? The bouquets were mostly assembled, but he still needed to decorate the boutique.

He searched the shop, checking shelves and corners, even looking in a couple vases. Fear coiled in his stomach, an ice cold snake waiting to strike. The storage room came up empty.

George knelt, beginning to go through the counter’s shelves, knocking aside cups of pens and supplies. He threw open drawers, wracking his mind, trying to remember where he had placed them last. His heart was beating out of his chest, blood pounding in his ears. This was his last chance, _please-_

Wrenching open one of the shelf doors, he knocked something off with a clatter. 

George blinked at the floor, slowly picking up the broken pieces of his goggles. 

\----

Sapnap arrived at Dream’s door, a worried expression on his face.

“Have you talked to George recently? The lights in his shop aren’t on.”

Dream starts, almost spilling the drink he was pouring. “He left the house at 7am! Is he in the back room?” 

“The blinds are up, so I know he arrived.”

He let out a breath, setting down the cup. “Have you texted him?”

“No, I was on my way over here for lunch when I noticed.”

Dream looked at one of the other employees, his eyes dark. “Can you watch the cafe for a little while?”

They nodded, picking up his half-done drink. 

He shared a look with Sapnap, before moving out from behind the counter. 

They walked to the boutique together, air heavy between them.

“I can’t go in,” Dream broke the silence, staring at the flowers dotting the shop. 

Sapnap said nothing, hurrying into the dim shop. It was quiet, more so than he had ever heard it. 

He strode towards the storage room, looking for a sign of his friend. The pink hoodie should be sticking out against the green, right?

Sapnap’s heart dropped when he saw the shape crouching on the floor. 

George sat frozen, eyes wide, holding his broken frames. 

He dropped to his knees beside him, carefully taking the pieces out of his friend’s hands. His skin was cold and pale, hands shaking. 

“Dream!” His shout broke the silence, wincing as it echos around the space. “Come quick!” 

His friend appeared beside him. “What happened?”

Sapnap held up a piece of his glasses. Dream visibly paled.

“George?” Sapnap asked gently, setting them aside. He placed his warm hands in George’s stiff ones, gently shaking them. “Can you hear me?” 

The florist blinked, a tear rolling down his face. He began to shake, the panic from the last couple weeks finally catching up. 

“It’s me, Sap. Can you respond?” George’s freezing hands were slowly curling around his own, quelling the worst of the shaking. 

George shook his head, tears coming faster and faster. 

“That’s alright,” Sapnap pulled him into a hug as his friends’ grip began to tighten. “I’m right here, okay?”

He began to murmur into George’s hoodie, trying to comfort his friend as best as he could. Dream placed his hand on his other shoulder, stifling sneezes into his sleeve.

Sapnap’s phone suddenly rang, a chirpy melody that broke through the heavy atmosphere. He pulls away, frowning. 

“Shit. Dream, I have to take this,” He looked at George, the others' tear-stained face desperate. “I’ll be back soon, but Dream is here, okay?”

The other boy nodded, wiping at his eyes. 

Sapnap stood, looking at the barista. “Get him warm, will you?”

Dream nodded, watching as Sapnap ran out of the store. 

George looked away from Dream, trying to hide his face under his hood.

"It's alright, come here,” He swept George up into another hug, rubbing his back. He tried to ignore the way his friend’s hands shook against his shoulders. 

They crouched there for a long time, silence occasionally punctuated by a sniffle.

George slowly pulled away from the hug, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. His face was flushed with embarrassment, and his nose was still running.

“Better?” Dream smiled minutely, releasing him. His own nose was itching with pollen.

George nodded, standing up off the cold tile. “Sorry you had to come in here," he says, listening to his friends violent sneezes.

“Don’t be,” Dream sniffles. “I’m glad I was able to help.” 

George pulls his phone out, swiping away at several notifications. 

“Are you going to be okay? I have to go check on the cafe,” Dream regretted having to leave, but the last time he left his employees alone for very long he came back to several cups of burned coffee and a weeks’ worth of flour wasted. 

“Shit, I still have to finish getting ready!” George's eyes widened at the clock, and he ran into the storage room, leaving Dream alone in the main shop. 

Guilt tugged at his mind as he left, footsteps heavy as he crossed the road.

\----

The shop was bright when Dream entered, despite the sun having set long ago. 

“This place looks better than I thought it could,” he commented.

The boutique was beautiful, curtains of fairly lights falling against the pale blue of the walls. The shelves scattered across the store were dotted with fake candles, breaking up the dark green of the ferns covering the space. Spots of multicolored light pushed through the warm color of the fairy lights, vases flipped upside down with edison bulbs glowing inside. The usual shelving was pushed to the sides of the shop, darkening the corners and making the main event that much brighter.

Gorgeous bouquets dotted the floor displays, tall blocks of wood contrasting the emerald green that made up much of the extra space in each bunch of flowers. 

Crystals joined the vases on each podium, simple quartz drawing the eye to even the smallest of bundles. 

George emerged from behind one of the stands, a smile bright on his face. “Does it look nice?” 

“Of course! How’d you get all of this done in such a short amount of time?” Dream touched one of the crystals, eyes flitting around the once-bare store. 

“It wasn’t that hard,” He ducked his head. “Are the colors right?”

“Yeah, the vases are a nice touch.”

“You’re here pretty early, Dream. Anything up with that?” George asked. “And dressed nicely, for once.”

“Hey! Just because I decided to wear something formal today does _not_ that it’s for you. Sapnap just hired a new employee and I thought he would appreciate it,” Dream retorted, flicking George in the forehead. His saffron-yellow sweater and dark red beanie were hardly something to comment about. 

“Since when do you dress up for Sap?” 

He was silent for a moment. “You got me there.”

“It’s honestly weird not seeing you covered in flour for once,” George hoisted himself up onto the counter, kicking his feet. “And this beanie? Since when do you wear hats?”

“Hey! Don’t touch that,” He batted George’s grabby hands away, “I thought I’d try it.”

“Try what, looking stupid?”

“You little-”

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” Sapnap strode in, pushing them apart. 

“Look at you! What’s up with the flannel, Mr. Lumberjack?” Dream asked, smacking George’s hands away from his beanie again. 

“I can wear what I want, Dream,” Sapnap said. Apparently dark flannel and jeans were ‘dressing up’ for Sapnap. “And if I want to look nice for George, I will.”

“There’s ink stains all over that thing,” the florist in question poked at his rolled-up sleeves. 

“That’s how all of his clothes look, George,” Dream laughed. “How long have you known us?”

“Long enough to know you need a haircut.”

“Hey! I look fine.”

“Apparently ‘fine’ means ‘hobo’ now.” Sapnap said. 

“Alright, alright,” Dream grabbed George’s wrist, pulling him off the counter. “Aren’t you going to start in…”

He yanked his wrist out of Dream’s hand, huffing. “Fifteen minutes, idiot.”

“Yeah! You should probably get dressed, George.” 

George gasped, looking down at his outfit. “Excuse me?”

“You’re wearing a t-shirt and jeans,” Sapnap commented. 

“It’s fine! I’m wearing the stupid shirt you guys got me a couple years ago.”

“At least his converse match his ‘stupid shirt’. How’d you find that floral pattern?” Dream stepped away, crossing his arms. “The apron really sells the whole...florist look.”

“I agree, Dream. It is quite epic.” Sapnap grinned, ignoring the glare George gave him. 

“You guys are idiots,” He shook his head, glancing towards the door again. 

“Pink is a nice color for you,” Sapnap remarked, tugging at the end of his friend’s shirt. 

George glanced at the door. “Someone’s here, shut up and go find somewhere else to compliment me.”

Dream gasped, pressing his hand to his chest. “I’m hurt, Georgie.”

“Shut up! Go away!” 

“Fine,” Sapnap sniffed, nose in the air. Linking his arm with Dream’s, he guided him to the back of the store. 

Dream sneezed, muffled by the hand he was covering his mouth with. "Shit."

"I thought you took your medication?" 

"I did! There's so many flowers in here!" He mock-whispered back, glaring at George from across the store.

George turned towards the glass door, shoving a smile through his nervousness, then opening the door. “Welcome to Flowers Not Found, would you care for some guidance?” 

\----

“That was terrible.” Dream laughed. 

“Excuse me! When was the last time you tried to swing around a streetlamp?” Sapnap retorted from the ground, indignant. 

“Shut up, Sapnap.” George was still shaking, his voice unsteady. “I’m stressed enough without having to think about you breaking your neck.”

“It was fine, George.” He responded, picking himself up off the concrete. “There was only one lady who hated it.” 

The florist groaned, pressing his hands into his cheeks. “You’re not helping.”

“Refusing her that last bouquet was incredibly petty.” Dream grinned.

“I wanted to have something left for the shop! That was my favorite one, too.”

They were walking back from the boutique, the florist in the middle of his two taller friends. The night had been stressful, as he hadn’t hosted an event in some time, and especially with the amount of people that arrived. 

The sky was dark, the lack of sun leaving the clouds ominous and heavy. 

“You did great, George.” he reassured, standing back to let Sapnap unlock the door. 

“But what if it’s not enough?”

Dread coiled in his chest, constricting his lungs. What if it hadn’t been enough? The supplies for the show had been expensive, trying to fill the shelves back up, and there was nothing left for another. He did make money from the event, but only enough for another couple of months. He couldn’t lose his shop, they’d ruin it and he’d have to leave the city and leave Dream and Sapnap-

“Can we stop freaking out and get some dinner?” The door finally opened; Sapnap made a beeline for the kitchen.

They ate in relative silence, silverware clinking against ceramic plates. It was quiet compared to the rolling thunder outside, their flat seeming like the only light along the street. The smell of wet asphalt seeped into the room, following a rush of cold air. 

“Damn, I must’ve left the window open,” Sapnap rose from the table, dropping his plate in the sink. 

“It might help air out this place, I’d leave it,” Dream flopped down on the couch, yanking out his phone. 

“Shoes off!” He swatted at Dream, who pressed his face into a pillow in defiance. 

They settled down. Sapnap returned to his room, leaving the couch and floor situation to Dream and George. 

“He’s already asleep,” George said to Sapnap’s retreating back. He sighed, sitting down on the carpeted floor. 

Sleep proved fleeting, and he aimlessly scrolled through his phone as he waited for exhaustion. 

It was quiet, with Dream’s usual wheezing and Sapnap’s quips behind a wall. 

The air was chilly, picking up as it whipped into the apartment, sending papers fluttering. The last bit of comfort was flicked away, brushed aside like dead leaves. 

George felt his heartbeat thrumming in his fingertips, his throat, his chest. The air inside the flat was suffocating, and he jolted up off the floor. 

The world was so empty, he noticed. The shops were all dark, any light getting lost in the rapidly thickening mist. 

He didn’t really know how he got up to the roof. The fire escape creaked loudly in the gale, rusty screws straining to stay intact. 

“George?” The voice was almost lost in the wind. He knew who was behind him already, but turned to look at Dream. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” With another rumble, the rain began to pour.

“You’re not.” He walked over, standing beside George. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed, relenting. “How can I continue like this? The boutique isn’t going to stay open for much longer.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“The money we raised from the show will only cover the next two months, and even then,”

The silence dragged on for several moments. 

“Then?” Dream questioned. He moved, trying to block George from the worst of the rain. 

“My glasses are broken, Dream. Who ever heard of a colorblind florist?” He was shaking again, anger and sadness and despair dripping from his voice. “I don’t even know how they broke. What did I do to deserve this?”

Dream’s blood ran cold. “I-”

George looked at him, hair sticking to his forehead with rain. 

“I broke your glasses.” 

“What?” The silence was deafening. He looked so hopeless.

“I- I knocked them off the counter a couple days ago. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to stress you out, and I just…”

It was silent for several heartbeats, save for the claps of thunder echoing around the city.

"You just?” He asked, voice empty and quiet.

“I didn't think-” Dream took a breath, "I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd hate me."

George stared at him, surprise cracking through the emptiness. "You thought I'd hate you?"

He said nothing, eyes scrunched up as he waited for a response.

The other boy scoffed, turning away. "You thought I'd hate you."

George threw his hands up in the air, eyes wild. He was soaked through, shirt sticking to his thin frame.

"How could you, Dream?" 

His voice stuck in his throat, any sound getting trapped as he struggled to breathe. 

"I trusted you," George's hands balled at his sides. They were shaking, he noticed. "I _trusted_ you."

"I know," Dream sighed, pushing the words out. They hung in the air, rain driving them down into the concrete.

George shoved him. His hands were cold, ice through Dream's soaked-through shirt. "This was my last chance!" Anger bled through the freezing air, his hands trembled with new emotion.

He stumbled back, caught off guard. "I couldn't-"

"You couldn't what?" Another shove, "I don't want to fucking hear it!" 

"George-"

"Shut up, Dream! You knew how much this meant to me!" 

His eyes sparkled. Rain or tears, Dream thought. It was hard to tell through the rain.

"How could you?" His voice broke.

Tears. 

Dream was frozen.

What was there left to say?

George sighed, short and heavy. 

And he left, his eyes red with sadness and anger, mixing in the rain. 

Dream raised his face up to the rain, heart aching. Sapnap took him back down to the apartment, hunched against the freezing rain.

His shoulders shook with sobs as he stumbled back down the creaky stairs. 

How could he?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or a kudos if you liked it :)
> 
> EDIT 12/12/20 - this fic isn't discontinued or on a hiatus, but I don't really have any idea of where to go from here. I might still write another chapter in the upcoming months, but for now this is it.


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